


Sweet Pleasures

by pinkdiamonds



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery and Coffee Shop, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1871985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkdiamonds/pseuds/pinkdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor O'Neill finds more than pastry at Once Upon A Bakery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Pleasures

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Shazzz for beta duties. Any and all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Thank you to Kelly, Nancy, ManicMea, Shazzz, Holdt, The Medicated Sheep, QuinGem, Winter, Cimmie and Antares for helping me pick out a name for the bakery.
> 
> A special thank you to Kelly for being such a cheerleader in this fandom.
> 
> Astroskylark points me to every bakery fic in fandom because they are so dear to her heart. I love the bakery fic in the SGA fandom and I was really surprised that SG-1 didn't have any true bakery fic. So, I've broadly sketched a universe in which a bakery plays a large role in Jack and Daniel's life. There are lots of untold stories here. Feel free to write them if you are moved to do so.

## The Past: 1933

Sadie Lebin’s family was educated, some even thought overeducated. Her father was a professor at the University, while her uncles were doctors and lawyers, with her brothers and male cousins destined to follow in similar professions. Her mother and grandparents ran one of Hamburg’s most successful bakeries. Sadie, at fifteen, had been the first granddaughter born, and as such, was pampered by her grandparents. She was also the youngest in her immediate family as well as the only girl and was indulged by her parents and elder brothers. 

Sadie had been well educated for a girl, and was headstrong, opinionated, smart, and far too pretty for her male relatives comfort. Tall, at 5’6”, with a head of thick ebony curls, and fair skin that freckled if she stayed out in the sun too long, she was slender, but curvy. 

Her favorite person in the whole world was her grandmother, Rachael. Sadie spent hours at the bakery as her grandmother baked and supervised, benevolently giving orders. And she talked, almost constantly, teaching Sadie how to adapt recipes, how to conduct herself, about the government, and anything else that crossed her mind. It was during the rise of the Nazi party that Rachael decided it was time for Sadie to visit the local Shadchen in order to find a husband for her granddaughter.

While it was true that Sadie was very young for marriage, Rachael was often was able extrapolate future events from current ones, and she was becoming more and more uncomfortable with the political climate in Germany. She had been deeply disturbed after the April 1st boycott of Jewish businesses, and when the laws for Reestablishment of the Civil Service passed, insuring that her son would lose his University position, she began planning.

On a fine Tuesday morning early in May, Rachel dressed in her best clothes, instructing Sadie do the same. She spent a full hour taming her granddaughter’s thick mane of hair, and set off for the tidy home of the Shadchen. In her pocket she had 500 marks and five loose pearls. She was determined that Sadie would have a match by the end of the day. The Shadchen could be greedy, holding out for more money over time before she got down to doing her job.

Rachael prodded Sadie into the parlor, cautioning her with a look to hold her tongue until given permission to speak. The Shadchen, Hannah, was a well-fleshed, still attractive woman in her 40’s. She was a bit vulgar, which was to be expected as her chosen profession didn’t allow for a great deal of modesty. Hannah was a popular matchmaker because her matches were usually spot on and her slight vulgarity never devolved into outright crudity.

The ritual of serving tea was observed before the two women got down to business, with Sadie doing her best not to fidget. This was not the first time Rachael had engaged Hannah’s services, so she knew the game well. She waited patiently while Hannah retrieved her books of eligible men. She waited patiently while Hannah flipped through each page, extolling the virtues of each gentleman, nodding slightly on occasion, but indicating the Shadchen should continue.

Rachael knew exactly the man she was looking for. She knew his name, his age, his personality, his family, his education, and the financial status of his family. There was only one man in Hamburg that Rachael wanted for Sadie, and she was determined to have him. That he was already twenty-five boded well, but it was still necessary to play the game.

After looking through the seventy-five bachelors that Hannah had under contract, Rachael picked three, finally allowing her granddaughter to see them. Sadie had been instructed on the proper way to behave during this meeting, and she had also been told which man Rachael had in mind for her and why. Sadie respected her grandmother enough to agree with her choice, and for once she didn’t argue. Rachael's fears had been enough for her total capitulation.

Sadie made a show of examining each man, asking a few questions about each, before placing one finger on her grandmother’s choice. She was dismissed to the kitchen while Hannah and Rachael got down to business.

“Moshe Klein,” Hannah murmured. “He’s a very eligible man; he’s well educated, his family has money, and he’s good looking.”

“He’s also twenty five,” Rachael snapped. “He’s getting a bit long in the tooth.”

“Your Sadie is only fifteen. Perhaps someone a bit younger,” the Shadchen suggested.

“Sadie is headstrong,” Rachael admitted. “She needs a man with a firm hand,” she lied, knowing that Sadie would have Moshe wrapped around her dainty fingers within a week.

“True, the girl is headstrong,” Hannah said in agreement. She’d been unable to get Moshe married off and she’d held his contract nearly five years now. It was the longest she’d ever taken to marry someone off. “Two hundred marks to meet, and another five hundred if they marry,” the Shadchen decided.

“Three hundred marks and they meet under the chuppa in two weeks time,” Rachael countered.

“Five hundred. I need to put food on my table.”

“Three hundred and fifty or I go to the Klein family myself. You’ve already received his fee after all,” Rachel negotiated. 

“You are in that much of a hurry to marry the girl off that you would flaunt social convention,” Hannah scoffed.

“Yes,” the older woman said simply.

Laughing, Hannah remarked, “Done! But you got chutzpah, Rachael Lebin, I’ll give you that. I’ll make sure Moshe knows.”

As the money changed hands, Rachael thought she’d done very well. The extra money would be added to what she’d already put aside for Sadie.

~*~

The following week Rachael met Moshe Klein at a restaurant midway between his place of business and the bakery. Over the clatter of people eating and talking, she told him her fears and what she’d planned. She laid out what she expected of him, giving him no room to protest. It was the price he had to pay to get Sadie. Moshe, a shy young man who understood numbers better than people immediately agreed with her demands and began making his own plans.

~*~

Two weeks after visiting the matchmaker, Sadie and Moshe stood under a decorated chuppa and exchanged their vows. The wedding supper was a simple, low-key affair for both families. After Rachael had talked to Moshe, he’d had a conversation with his family, and they reluctantly agreed that their son’s soon to be mother-in-law had a point, and they too began to plan.

Sadie spent the entirety of her wedding dinner with her family, and especially her grandmother. Rachael had assured her that the plans she had made were a temporary measure only, even if neither of them believed it. It was a lie they both pretended to believe because acknowledging the truth would destroy their hope.

~*~

Part of Rachael’s wedding gift besides the money and jewelry she’d divided up among her grandchildren was a full set of handwritten recipes that had been in her family for generations. She’d made a set for each one of her grandchildren she’d manage to convince to leave Germany. She’d had less luck with her children. Out of her eight living children, only two of them took her concerns seriously.

It was a blessing to have eight sons, but also a trial. Being men, they thought they had a better read on the political climate than their mother. They didn’t understand that the noose that had been placed around the necks of the Jews was slowly tightening. They refused to acknowledge that a noose once placed and then tightened would only come off once it choked off life. 

Rachael had done all she could to protect her family. She’d convinced most of her older grandchildren and two of her children to leave while there was still time. She had no idea if she and her remaining family would survive the storm that was coming, but at least some of her family would survive and be out of harm’s way. Over the last months, she’d sold everything of value except her jewelry to give her loved ones enough of a start in their new life.

As she let go of family heirlooms and her memories, she shoved every emotion down deep. But, as each of her loved ones left Germany, Rachael cried hard, bitter tears that did nothing to relieve the ache in her heart. 

~*~

Sadie and Moshe left Hamburg with 5,000 marks, jewelry worth 15,000 marks, photos, the handwritten recipes, and a few changes of clothing. Taking a train to Paris, they booked passage to New York immediately. They had enough money to bribe any officials they needed to in order to be allowed to enter the country. They also had a cover story regarding some distant relatives of the Klein’s who’d left Germany years ago. 

Once in New York they rented a small room from one of Moshe’s relatives in Washington Heights. Sadie was determined that it would be a short stay and she spent hours each day learning English and wandering the city. She eventually found herself in Greenwich Village, home to New York University. She would walk the quaint streets, which reminded her of Hamburg, sitting for hours while drinking cup after cup of coffee, talking to students, artists, residents, and anyone else willing to talk to her. Her English improved to the point where her accent was barely discernible.

~*~

Five years after Moshe and Sadie came to New York, they were doing well. They had bought a building containing three apartments on Bedford Street, and had opened a bakery they’d called Once Upon a Bakery, a nod to their German roots. It was located on Waverly Place, in the very heart of the Village. They were in negotiations to buy the building that housed the bakery.

From early morning to late afternoon, hundreds of people would drop in to the bakery for bread, treats, and coffee. Sadie and Moshe prospered along with the bakery.

They lived their lives as well as they could, even under the shadow of losing so many to an evil almost too great to comprehend.

## Prologue

Daniel, tired of having to dress to impress after a year of being orphaned, nevertheless complied. He didn’t understand why the social workers kept bothering. He wasn’t young and cute, his grandfather had made permanent adoption impossible, and most permanent foster situations balked when they understood the depth and breadth of the educational needs Daniel would require. 

He made sure his hands and face were clean, and his hair neatly combed. His blue pants were neatly creased and his white shirt properly tucked in. Peering into the mirror, he schooled his expression to show no emotion, or so he thought. He could not hide the vulnerability in his eyes or the anxiety that poured out of him.

This month’s social worker held her hand out from him to grasp. This was only the second time Daniel had met her, and she hadn’t given up yet in anger and frustration upon realizing that the nine-year-old Daniel was smarter than she was. He stopped bothering to learn their names after the third social worker had come and gone.

Daniel gripped her soft hand, and sighed. He had stopped hoping that he’d be taken in and figured he would be in temporary situations until he hit his teens, at which point he would be assigned a group home. 

He was taken into the small office where potential long-term foster parents met the kids they were thinking of taking in. “Daniel Jackson, I’d like for you meet Bernie and Sylvia Klein,” the social worker said.

### Jack

“No, Mom. I’m not going to marry Sara. We don’t want the same things, and I’m just not willing to compromise,” Jack said quietly. They were sitting at the scarred kitchen table, both of them with their hands around cool glasses of lemonade.

“But you’ve been dating since junior year, Jack. Everyone expects it,” Margaret O’Neill tried to explain to her pigheaded son.

“I’m not all that interested in what everyone expects. I want to go to college, and I don’t want a wife coming with me,” Jack stated. “Sara wants me to join the Air Force or get a job right away. She’s got my whole damn life planned out, and I won’t go along with it.”

Margaret hung her head, and took a deep breath. “She told me she’s pregnant, Jack.”

Sighing silently, Jack knew that he had to tell his mother part of the truth. “If she’s claiming to be pregnant, it can’t be mine. We’ve never…” Jack let the sentence trail off, hoping his mother would catch on without any further explanation. Sara had been a good cover and distraction in school. He genuinely cared for her, but not enough to marry her. Although they did most of the things that other couples their age did, Jack had never been attracted enough for the type of sex that would leave her pregnant.

Margaret paled. “Really?” she squeaked in surprise.

“Really.”

“That bitch!” Margaret spit in defense of her son.

Jack laughed. “If she’s really pregnant, then she cheated on me. If she’s not, do you honestly think I should marry someone so manipulative?”

“So, let’s talk about what you plan on majoring in,” Margaret murmured. 

The complete change in conversation let Jack know that his mother was on his side, and he proceeded to talk about his plans for the future.

## Interlude

### Jack

After Jack received his Master’s degree in political science, he took a job as a Foreign Service Officer for the Department of State. Because he’d become fluent in Standard Arabic along with a number of dialects, Farsi, and Urdu, he was stationed in Damascus. Jack’s laid back, affable, and self-depreciating personality that hid a sharp, insightful intellect was an excellent cover that the State Department took full advantage of. 

Jack was sent to numerous hot spots all over the region to take the measure of the situation. He was most often sent as a tourist, a cover that allowed him to gather a great deal of information covertly. No one ever suspected the tall, good-looking tourist was actually putting himself in situations that enabled him to overhear all manner of conversations that were useful. Often the people he was eavesdropping on spoke in code; a code Jack was easily able to decipher. He became an expert in taking the temperature of the Arab street and had been able to inform his superiors of several planned low level terrorist attacks that nevertheless saved lives. But, his real talent was the gathering of information. It was thanks to Jack’s work that the major players in terrorist organizations were identified and neutralized.

While in Damascus, Jack earned his PhD in Political Science, specializing in the Arab world. Soon after a number of major universities began attempting to recruit him, most offering him a fast track tenure. He looked over his options and thought it might be nice to live in New York City. Besides a guarantee of tenure, the position at New York University came with an excellent salary, great benefits, a large corner office, his choice of TA’s, and the ability to design his own course content. Jack jumped on the offer eagerly.

## The Present

### Jack

Once back in the states, Jack found a large apartment on Barrow Street. Built in the early 1900’s, it was like most of the others on the street; three stories high, and sturdy, with a warm brick face and a small stoop. In this part of the Village, the apartments were not split, so Jack had the entire second floor apartment. The rooms were large and airy, and the front and back rooms got light at either end of the day.

Not wanting to fuss with shopping here and there for what he needed, he went to IKEA and furnished the entire apartment in one fell swoop. They promised delivery in ten days. In the meantime, Jack didn’t mind roughing it with a sleeping bag he’d picked up. He spent long hours getting to know the neighborhood, and stopped by NYU to fill out a mountain of paperwork and set up his office.

He had sent his syllabi to his department head several weeks ago, and with only a few minor changes, it was approved. He put his book orders in with the bookstore, met the department secretary, had lunch with his department head and a few other professors in the Political Science department, and was told that he already had several TA resumes to look through. He was advised to pick his TA’s before the new semester started. As there was six weeks until the new semester, Jack thought it was a tad early, but he took the advice and began interviewing the candidates. 

He ended up with a serious sophomore, who appreciated the fact that Jack was fluent in Arabic. His second TA choice was a tiny senior, who was hoping to get into the graduate program. Every other professor had turned her down because she had a tendency to be bossy, which amused Jack.

It was Madeline who steered him to Once Upon A Bakery, assuring him in her bossy, opinionated way that it was the only bakery worth visiting in the Village.

### Daniel

Two months before his disastrous, career-ending lecture, Daniel stood at Bernie Klein’s grave, mourning the man who had taken him in and raised him. He’d been in New York only a few short months before for Sylvia’s funeral. Daniel had sat in the limo holding Bernie’s hand on the long ride from Pinelawn Cemetery in Long Island, back to Bedford Street in Greenwich Village. 

Once back in the apartment, Daniel had been surprised that the bedroom he’d slept in as a child was still his. Many of the books he’d left behind were still on their shelves, and pictures of him growing up lined the walls. He’d kept in touch with the Klein’s, but he’d been back only once and that was during his first his first year of college. Seeing his room made him realize that this was his home, and he regretted that he hadn’t taken the time to come home to see his family in so long.

Daniel stayed for a few days, fixing simple meals for Bernie, and making sure that the bakery was taken care of. He did the laundry, cleaned the apartment, and stocked the freezer. Bernie and Sylvia owned the building where they lived as well as the building that housed the bakery. Daniel made sure that the tenants in both buildings didn’t have any urgent repairs or problems before he left for the airport.

Daniel never expected to be back in New York so soon. He should have realized that Bernie wouldn’t take care of himself without Sylvia. After the brief ceremony at the gravesite, he steered his rented car straight back to the airport, anxious to go over his lecture notes yet again. Dr. Jordan, Daniel’s mentor, disapproved of the direction his work and refused to discuss the evidence Daniel’s research had uncovered. Bernie would have been a good sounding board. 

Daniel was now as alone as he’d been the day his parents were killed.

He got the letter from Bernie and Sylvia’s lawyer two weeks before his lecture, informing him that he’d inherited it all; the two buildings, the apartment and all it contained, the bank accounts and other investments, and the bakery. Daniel took ten minutes out of his schedule to freak out, and then called the attorney to let him know he’d be lecturing in New York City in a couple of weeks and would stop by his office to discuss his inheritance the day after.

~*~

It was pouring rain the day Daniel’s career ended. As he laid out his evidence that the Pyramids were older than previously thought, he heard the mocking scorn from his audience. Within minutes, the room had emptied out and Daniel was standing alone at the podium.

In shock, Daniel packed up his charts, books, and everything else he’d brought with him from Chicago. He retrieved his small suitcase, put up his hood and retreated to the subway completely dejected. He got off at West 4th trudging the few blocks to Bedford Street and his old home.

Upon entering, he could smell the mustiness. It seemed no one had been there since Bernie died. Despite the rain, he opened several windows, and called the lawyer. His appointment set for 10 AM, Daniel began in the kitchen, disposing of spoiled food. There wasn’t much to get rid of in the way of food, and a stray cup, caked with the remnants of a last cup of coffee was also thrown out.

He wasn’t at all surprised that the closets in the master bedroom still held Sylvia’s clothing. Daniel would purchase large garbage bags and donate all of Sylvia and Bernie’s clothing. He didn’t have the heart to go through any of it. He would start making some real decisions after his visit with the lawyer.

~*~

Daniel left the lawyer’s office stunned. Both Sylvia and Bernie’s will had left him everything after each other. The only stipulation was that he would have to keep the bakery open. He’d known that they’d left him everything from the lawyer’s initial phone call, but he hadn’t fully understood what that had meant.

The two buildings were worth millions, the bakery itself brought in an excellent income, but Daniel hadn’t fully understood until now the extent of the investments he’d inherited. The only thing that was clear was that he was now a very rich man. It was ironic that he’d lost his standing in the archeological community and been given a fortune in the space of two days. It was almost more than Daniel could take in.

Daniel’s next stop was the bakery. He wanted to have a conversation with Angela, the woman Bernie and Sylvia had trusted to manage the place for the last five years. He’d met her briefly after Sylvia had died, and he wanted to reassure the older woman that she still had a job.

While the bakery still made a lot of money, Daniel wanted to modernize a little, and that included a makeover for the place as well as some changes to the menu. One of the reasons Once Upon A Bakery was still a thriving business after so many years was the fact that the Klein’s had been able to change with the times. While it might have started out only serving traditional Jewish baked goods, it had expanded to include traditional American fare for breakfast and lunch. Daniel wanted to shake up the menu with international foods, both for baked goods as well as for breakfast and lunch.

Cooking was something Daniel enjoyed, and his travels had exposed him to foods from all over the Middle East and the Mediterranean. His mind was racing with ideas that the hip, smart, and savvy clientele the bakery enjoyed because of its proximity to NYU would embrace. He spent the day discussing his ideas with Angela, listening to her input, and observing her and the other workers when the bakery was too busy for conversation. The bakery closed as usual, at 4 PM, and Daniel was well satisfied with what he had planned. 

Angela’s nephew was a contractor and she assured her new boss that he would give Daniel a fair price on the work. As it turned out Vinnie’s best crew would be finishing a job within the week, He promised he’d come to the bakery the next day to discuss Daniel’s ideas and to give him a price.

~*~

The first time Jack decided to visit Once Upon A Bakery, he was disappointed to see the place shuttered and a ‘Closed for Renovations’ sign hanging on the door. The proposed reopening date was three weeks before the semester started. 

The next time Jack visited the bakery, it still wasn’t open, but a tall, well-built man that he’d occasionally seen on Bedford Street, right around the corner from his own apartment was cleaning the large window that looked into the bakery. 

Jack stopped and watched the other man for a few minutes, admiring the view, desperately trying to think of something clever and suave to say. He finally cleared his throat loudly to get the other man’s attention.

Daniel turned to see a tall, attractive man staring at him. “Good morning. Can I help you?”

“I was wondering when you’d be open,” Jack stated. “My TA told me this was the best bakery in the Village, and I’m new in town…” Jack trailed off.

“We won’t be opening for a few more days. But maybe you could do me a favor,” Daniel requested, putting down his cleaning supplies and walking the short distance to Jack. He put his hand out, “I’m Daniel Jackson, the owner.”

Jack’s big hand grasped Daniel’s. “Jack O’Neill. And I’d be happy to do you a favor.”

“We’re looking to expand our menu and truthfully, I need a guinea pig to try out a few new things we’re trying. You teach at NYU?” Daniel said in a rush.

“Yeah, I’m just starting this semester. If you need a guinea pig, I’m your man. I have a very discerning palate,” he teased. Even if he’d hated sweets, he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to spend time with the very attractive Daniel.

Laughing, Daniel led Jack inside the newly designed bakery. “What do you teach?” he asked. 

“Political Science, with a specialty in the Arab world. I worked in Damascus for the last several years,” Jack said, leaving out his covert work.

Daniel’s mouth dropped open briefly. “Really? That’s - - that’s quite the coincidence. We’re planning on featuring typical breakfasts, lunches, and desserts from different countries every two weeks or so. We’re starting with middle eastern counties.”

“Well, lead me to the food, Daniel,” Jack challenged.

~*~

Jack turned out to be a very good critic; he made some suggestions, praised the vast majority of Daniel’s meals and desserts, and was brutally honest about the few dishes that wouldn’t appeal to American taste buds. Every morning, including the grand opening, saw Jack seated at a small table, Daniel usually with him, cup of coffee in hand as he carefully watched Jack’s reactions. Even after the opening, Daniel had new things for Jack to sample each day.

As Jack sat and ate, and Daniel watched him, they talked. And with each bite of pastry, or sip of soup, or forkful, they got to know each other better then they’d ever known anyone before.

“Can I take you to dinner tonight?” Jack asked on the thirty-sixth day of sampling food.

“There’s no need for you to feed me, Jack. You’re the one who’s been doing me a favor,” Daniel answered.

“No, Daniel. I don’t want to repay you, I want to take you on a date,” Jack explained.

Blushing, Daniel stammered, “Um, sure, yes, I’d, I’d really like that.”

## Afterward

They made love for the first time a month after their first date.

Jack moved into Daniel’s apartment a year after their first date.

They married three years after that first date. At the reception, guests were surprised that there was no wedding cake. Instead, thirty-six different types of pastry and desserts surrounded the two ceramic grooms standing on a cake plate. Only a few people knew that they were the same pastries and desserts that Jack sampled while he and Daniel fell in love.

The End


End file.
